Survival of the Ruthless
by Coral in the moon
Summary: A little bit of extra: the last scene in the arena, the last confrontation between Katniss and Peeta.


**A/N: Wrote this ages ago, in like August, back when I hadn't read the other two books. A brief little snippet of the end of The Hunger Games, so there's obviously spoilers, don't read it if you haven't read the first book because HG is way too amazing to spoil.**

**Italics are actual quotes. Some not in italics are quotes too, but if you can't spot them, then it doesn't matter.**

**And here's the obligatory disclaimer: If I were Suzanne Collins, the series would have ended differently.**

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_"Greetings to the final contestants of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games. The earlier revision has been revoked. Closer examination of the rule book has disclosed that only one winner may be allowed," he says. "Good luck, and may the odds ever be in your favour."_

There's a small burst of static, then nothing more.

I am suddenly very aware of my bow and my last arrow, lying in the dirt about five metres away. And even more aware of his knife, gleaming in his belt. Neither of us have moved.

Peeta lets out a breath, almost a sigh. "If you think about it, it's not that surprising," he says, and then I feel his hands move.

The next thing I know, I have covered the five metres and have the arrow on my bowstring, pointed straight at his heart.

"Katniss," he says.

"Don't say my name," I spit out, trying to steady my hands. They are trembling, and I curse myself.

He only shakes his head. "Let go of your knife," I say.

"Or what? You'll shoot me?" he asks, and I am both shaken and furious at the calm in his voice.

"Yes," I say. "Let go of it."

"All right," he says. I see his hand start to move away, then return in a quick blur of movement and a gleam of silver flashes in the air.

Somehow, my arrow actually meets it in midair. There is a screech of metal on metal and both fall to the ground, the dagger quivering as it stands upright – diagonally behind Peeta. He aimed it towards the lake.

We stand there, staring at each other. Moments pass. The only sound is Peeta's heavy breathing, and some part of my mind notices vaguely that his tourniquet is stained with blood again.

"Good shot," he says at last.

I find my voice. "Are you crazy?"

He shrugs, even forces a smile. "I guess."

"There's only one of us leaving this place alive!" I yell because I can't not yell. "Do you understand that?"

"Yes," he says.

"And you're just going to let me – let me –" I force the words out. "-kill you."

"What else can I do?" he says simply.

"You can fight!" Rage is hot within me, and I am not sure why, or what it is directed against. At his cowardice, at my hesitation, at his stupid nobility, at the Gamemakers, at the savagery of a Capitol that is not satisfied with seventy-four years of vengeance. "Go on then! Try to kill me!"

"I won't." He is still so calm.

"Why not? I'm all that's standing between you and a life of ease!"

"Do you think I would? Or could?" There's a flash in his eye, maybe hurt, maybe anger of his own.

"Stop being so noble," I rage. "Pick up your knife. I won't attack until you're ready."

"No." He folds his arms, but despite the fierce determination that tightens his jaw, he leans back against a tree for support.

I stomp to retrieve both my arrow and his knife, which I fling at his feet. It skewers the ground in front of him but he only looks down, then back at me.

"Pick it up!" I yell.

He shakes his head.

I raise my bow, aiming at his heart. "Pick it up." I am cold all over, although the sun is shining fiercely.

He does not even bother to respond this time.

"What about your family? Your father? Your brothers?"

Peeta does react at that. "Don't, Katniss," he says, and I see the flash in his eyes clearly this time.

"Have you forgotten about them?" I press relentlessly. "Wouldn't they like to live well, instead of eating stale bread every day? Won't they cry for you?"

"I said _don't!_" There is real anger in his voice now, and pain.

"Then why won't you fight me?" I shout. "Why? _Why?_"

"Because I can't live with myself if I do!" he finally yells right back.

I cannot speak.

"I can't kill you, Katniss," he says more calmly. "I couldn't. I can't."

"Even if I'm trying to kill you?" I whisper.

"I've had a long time to think about it," he says. "Yes, I want to live. But living with your blood on my hands wouldn't be living. It'd be hell on earth, every single day."

My throat is tight, but I force the words out. "I can't die. I won't die. Prim – my mother –" And Gale. And Gale.

"I know," he says. He actually smiles a little, a small twist of his lips.

I stare into his blue eyes. They are clear, and I remember his eyes in a patch of mud, the only thing that made him recognisable.

"Remember what I said on the rooftop?" he says. "I said I wanted to show the Capitol that they don't own me. That I'm more than just a piece in their Games. I still want to. They can throw me in the arena, but they can't make me kill the girl I've – I've loved for eleven years. They can't turn me into an animal."

The trembling starts in my hands again. Am I an animal? If I want to survive, if I want to make sure my family survives, more than I want Peeta to go home to District 12, am I an animal?

"I promised Prim I'd go home," I say, my voice barely audible. "I promised Rue. I promised."

"Do it quick," says Peeta. "I don't want to die like Cato."

And I draw my bow.

Time stretches. We are both waiting for me to let the arrow fly.

There is a whirr, a flash of silver, and then a thud.

Despite himself, Peeta flinches as the arrow stabs deep into the ground.

For a long moment neither of us seems to be breathing. Then I fling the bow away from me as far as I can and then I am crouching down, huddled on the ground, my head buried in my arms, my body shaking violently. I hear a sobbing sound that does not sound like it is coming from me.

"Katniss," says Peeta, limping towards me, picking up the bow and arrow on the way.

"Don't talk to me!" I yell, but to my shame my voice cracks. "Go away! Just go away!"

"Katniss, you have to do it," he says, urgency in his voice. "They'll force you into it anyway. It doesn't matter. I want you to survive, do you hear me? I want you to go back to District 12. Katniss, listen to me. Listen to me!"

"I won't!" I shout. "You can't make me do it. I won't!"

"They'll send the mutts back or something if you don't, and you won't be able to save me. Not with this leg. You can make it quick. Katniss, please. For my sake." And he puts the weapons in my hand.

_"Then you shoot me," I say furiously, shoving them back at him. "You shoot me and go home and live with it!" And as I say it, I know death right here, right now, would be the easier of the two._

_"You know I can't," Peeta says, discarding the weapons. "Fine, I'll go first anyway."_

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**Finé.**


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